Here is another poem from “A letter not sent” by Jeong Ho-seung (정호승), from which I blogged another poem once before. I like this one, from page 244.
휴대폰의 죽음
휴대폰의 죽음을 목격한 적이 있다
영등포구청역에서 지하철을 기다리고 있을 때였다
전동차가 역 구내로 막 들어오는 순간
휴대폰 하나가 갑자기 선로 아래로 뛰어내렸다
전동차를 기다리며 바로 내 앞에서
젊은 여자와 통화하던 바로 그 휴대폰이었다
승객들은 비명을 질렀다
전동차는 급정거했으나 그대로 휴대폰 위로 달려나갔다
한동안 전동차의 문은 열리지 않았다
역무원들이 황급히 달려오고
휴대폰의 시체는 들것에 실려나갔다
한없이 비루해지면 누구의 얼굴이 보이는 것일까
지금 용서하고 지금 사랑하지 못한 것일까
선로에 핏자국이 남아 있었으나
전동차는 다시 승객들을 태우고 비틀비틀 떠나갔다
다시 전원의 붉은 불이 켜지기를 기다리며
휴대폰은 자살한 이들과 함께
천국의 저녁식탁 위에 놓여 있다
– 정호승 (대한민국의 시인, 1950년)
Death of a Cell Phone
I’d witnessed before the death of a cell phone.
It was while I was waiting for a train at Yeongdeungpo-gu Office Station.
Just as the train was entering the station
a cell phone suddenly threw itself down onto the tracks.
It was the cell phone that had been talking to a young woman,
right in front of me as I waited for the train.
The other passengers screamed.
The train came to a sudden stop, but ran on over the cell phone.
For some time the doors did not open.
Station attendants came running hastily
and the corpse of the cell phone was carried away on a stretcher.
Whose face do we see when we become infinitely abject?
Is it the face of those we could not forgive, could not love?
Bloodstains remained on the tracks
but the train took on the passengers and went staggering off.
Waiting for the red light of the “Power On” to turn on once again,
the cell phone lies on heaven’s supper table
together with those who have killed themselves.
– Jeong Ho-seung (Korean poet, b 1950), translated by Brother Anthony of Taizé and Susan Hwang
[daily log: walking, 1km]